


sex is a texas drought

by ireallydontknowok



Category: EXO (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, BDSM, Begging, Blow Jobs, Camboy Baekhyun, Camboys, Clothed Sex, Cock Slut, Crying, Dom Byun Baekhyun, Dom/sub, FaceFucking, Frottage, Grinding, Hooker, Humiliation, M/M, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Physical Humiliation, Pole Dancing, Prostitution, Punishment, Riding, Slut Shaming, Spanking, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, degredation, forced ogasm, i guess, submissive wu yifan, thats it for now, whipping boy, worthy of a tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2018-12-13 02:40:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11750355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ireallydontknowok/pseuds/ireallydontknowok
Summary: where i post the things that i'm not gonna clean up enough to properly see the light of day.ch 4 - krisbaek / transboy baekhyun, camboys + frottage!! please don't ask me to continue any of these; if they're here, it's because they've been in my google docs for months. this is all we're getting.





	1. jihopemin / hooker!yoongi, multiple orgasms

Yoongi's tired. He's had a long, long day, filled with too much standing and not enough sleeping. He needs a nap and preferably a foot rub, but instead he's out here, on the corner of a sparsely lit street, sucking on a lollipop.

A car slows, pulls over to the curb, and Yoongi tips his head to the side, shows off the soft expanse of his neck while dragging the lollipop over his lips.

"How much for a blow?" the guy in the car asks, not quiet but not overly loud either. Yoongi smirks.

"60, 000 won," he calls back, not moving to get up just yet, and he judges right. The man in the car drives away at the mention of his price, and Yoongi just goes back to waiting.

A few more guys in shitty cars roll up and then promptly roll away, and night has truly set in now, the moon hanging high above the street. Yoongi's on his third lollipop.

Other than sucking at the candy, Yoongi's been passing the time watching two figures approach from down the long street, which is teeming with people like him. The two in question are huddled close together, but they’re walking slowly and keep stopping here and there, pausing for a minute or so, and then moving on again.

They come into closer view, and Yoongi can see that they're both boys, one of them shorter, with bright orange hair, the taller one with sharp features and brown hair. They stop and talk to a boy maybe half a block down from where Yoongi is, and Yoongi can hear the one with the dark hair laugh loudly.

Yoongi twists the lollipop around in his fingers, wondering idly if these guys are out to bug people just trying to make some money, or if they're out shopping.

They approach him slowly, strolling lazily on the sidewalk, and Yoongi watches them come closer with a growing smile and the lollipop wet from his tongue.

"Hey," he says, and both of the guys' eyes brighten.

"Hi!" the shorter one chirps, waving at Yoongi, and they come to a stop a few feet in front of Yoongi. "What's your name?"

Yoongi raises an eyebrow and lets his head loll to the side, looks at the two from an angle.

"Suga," Yoongi answers, sliding the lollipop back over his tongue. The taller one smirks, rests a hand at the base of orange hair's spine, whispers something to him. Yoongi waits, ruffling his own hair and then settling it back down.

"Would you want to come home with us?" Taller one asks, and Yoongi raises his eyebrows, smiling a little. The guy seems encouraged, and smiles back. "We'd love to have you."

Yoongi hums, but pushes off the low wall he'd been sitting on to saunter over to the two boys.

"You together?" he asks when he's close to them. Taller one nods. "Looking for something pretty to liven up your night?

Orange hair is really good looking, a sharp jaw line and sweet eyes, and he's got his hands balled into fists at his side. Yoongi tilts his mouth up at him, decides to go out on a limb.

"You looking for someone else to order around?" he asks, flicking his gaze over to the taller one, whose eyes go dark at the words. "Want both of us at your feet?"

"If that's allowed," the guy says after a second, voice low and controlled, and fuck. He's hot, they both are. "If it's not then I'm sure we'd be able to figure out some other way to make this night worth your while."

Yoongi steps into his space, looking him in the eye as he walks his fingers up the line of buttons on his shirt.

"I think we could work something out," he says, and orange-hair exhales loudly. "Don't think I'd mind giving you the reigns for a night."

Taller one rests a hand on Yoongi's waist. "This is Jimin," he says, pulling orange-hair in closer to his side with the words. "And I'm Hoseok."

Yoongi smirks. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

***

"Jiminie," Hoseok says, and Jimin's gaze focuses immediately. Hoseok smiles at him when their gazes meet, and Jimin pulls him down into a kiss. "You going to come?"

Jimin whimpers, nodding. Yoongi watches it all from his place on his knees, Jimin's cock hot and heavy in his mouth.

"Good," Hoseok murmurs, and then looks at Yoongi. "Make him come, and then we'll talk about you."

Yoongi nods, eyes slipping shut as he works Jimin over as best he knows, and he's got the younger boy crying out in no time. Jimin comes, and as he does, Hoseok leans in close to speak to him.

"Don't swallow," he says, and Yoongi freezes. "Keep his come in your mouth, Suga, be a good boy."

Yoongi makes a noise at this, slightly disgruntled but mostly turned on, and Hoseok rises again to kiss Jimin on the forehead.

"Is my baby happy with that?" he asks, and Jimin nods, reaches out to pet at Yoongi's hair, but his eyes remain glued to Hoseok. Hoseok smiles. "Good, I'm glad."

They both turn their full attention to Yoongi then, eyes dark and intent, in Hoseok's case, bright and sated in Jimin's. Yoongi just kneels there, mouth open and still full of Jimin's come, hands folded in his lap as he waits.

"Kiss him," Hoseok says, and Jimin moves right away, even though Hoseok never takes his eyes off Yoongi. Jimin leans in and presses his lips to Yoongi's, tongue sweeping into his mouth and gathering the come off of Yoongi's tongue. He swallows it down, moaning long and loud in the back of his throat, and Yoongi agrees wholeheartedly.

"My good boys," Hoseok says quietly, and Jimin separates their mouths to turn and smile at him. Yoongi waits, panting with his mouth open, eyes closed. "Now, Suga."

Yoongi startles a little at the sound of his name, and Hoseok reaches out to wind his long fingers into his hair.

"I'm not sure what I want to do next," Hoseok says, and he sounds casual. "If I should make you come 'till you cry-"

Yoongi moans at this, and Hoseok tightens his grip in Yoongi's hair.

"Or if I should just not let you come at all," he finishes, and Yoongi shakes his head. "You want the first one? Want me to make you cry until you beg me to stop?" Yoongi nods. "What a slut."

Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut at this, swallowing his pride, and he nods.

Jimin makes a little noise at this, and Hoseok turns to him, pushes into his space and claims his mouth in a harsh, biting kiss.

"You'll get your turn, baby," he says, biting at Jimin's lip and pulling at it. "Let me ruin our toy for a little while first, though, okay?"

***

"Did I tell you you could stop?" Hoseok asks, and his voice is so low and hoarse.

Jimin whimpers, hands fluttering about near Yoongi's hips, not knowing where to touch. Yoongi lets his head tip back, takes in a long, shuddery breath. He looks over at Hoseok, and his eyes are wet with tears. Hoseok smirks.

"Please," Yoongi breathes, high and needy. "Please let me stop."

"No," Hoseok says, and it's final. "You're going to keep riding my boyfriend like I'm paying you to," he gets up, steps over to the bed. "And you're going to come around his cock again."

Yoongi shivers, and it runs through his whole body. Hoseok reaches out, touches Yoongi under the chin, light and gentle. Yoongi meets his eyes and sucks his bottom lip between his teeth. His eyes are glassy and hazy, eyelashes damp.

"Come on, now, whore," Hoseok murmurs, and Yoongi's eyes fall shut. "It's not so hard, not for someone like you. Just up-" he puts a little pressure into the fingers under Yoongi's chin and Yoongi rises up a fraction, inhaling shakily as he goes. "-And down."

Yoongi drops back down, and it punches a sound out of him. Jimin groans in tandem, and Hoseok leans down to lick over Jimin's Adam's apple. Jimin arches his neck, one hand fitting around the back of Hoseok's neck and scratching through the hair there, the other closing around Yoongi's waist. Yoongi lifts himself up on shaky thighs and then sinks back down, the pain of it in his thighs, his knees, his hips. He hurts inside too; each time Jimin's cock brushes his prostate he jolts.

"How many times has he come, baby?" Hoseok asks, speaking into the sweat slick skin of Jimin's neck.

"Four," Jimin rasps, pulling Hoseok up for a kiss. "Four times, Hobi,  _ fuck _ . Twice on my cock."

"How many times have you come, babe?" Jimin swallows thickly, and Hoseok smiles.

"Once," he gasps, jerking up when Yoongi rolls his hips in the bowl of Jimin's pelvis. "I've only come one time, Hobi, you  _ know _ that.  _ Please _ ."

"You wanna come?" Hoseok says it like it's news, and Jimin whines. "Aw, baby."

Yoongi huffs out a little laugh, breathes it out as he rises up on Jimin's cock. Hoseok shoots him a look over his shoulder, and in seeing Yoongi grinning a little wildly he pushes himself up to kneel by the edge of the bed. He intertwines his fingers with Jimin's and runs a hand through his own hair.

"You laughing, Suga?" he asks, voice soft and sweet, and Yoongi turns his head to meet his eyes. He nods, once, and Hoseok growls, the sound building from his stomach and sliding out through clenched teeth as he surges up into Yoongi's space. He grips Yoongi's pink hair in a ruthless fist and yanks his head from side to side loosely. Yoongi makes a desperate, drawn out noise, reaching up to scramble at Hoseok's wrist and arm.

"You laughing now?" he asks, and Yoongi pants up at him. His lips are so pink, wet and bitten and Hoseok leans in to lick over them, filthy and irreverent.

"Jimin," Hoseok says, and it's louder than before. Jimin startles, opening his eyes and looking Hoseok in the face. "Come, baby. Take what you want from him and come."

Jimin whimpers, letting go of Hoseok's hand and gripping onto Yoongi's hips, tight and desperate and he fucks up into him, Yoongi shivering with the way Jimin takes what he can, chasing his orgasm and making Yoongi shake in a loose and disjointed way as he takes control, moving Yoongi where he wants.

Hoseok reaches between them and wraps his fingers around Yoongi's cock, his grip tight and unavoidable and he forces another orgasm out of him, come dribbling down Hoseok's fingers pitifully, cock worked almost dry. Yoongi spasms, muscles tensing and he's moving away, hands planted on Jimin's lower stomach as he pushes himself up and away from Jimin, who is still snapping his hips up. Yoongi is yelping in staccato little noises, shocked and pained and Hoseok isn't letting go, lays his other hand over the back of Yoongi's neck and shoves him back down, keeps him in place with slow strokes and a firm palm and Jimin is watching it all with wide eyes, mouth open.

He comes, feet planted on the mattress and back arched up off the bed, hips lifted enough that Yoongi is sitting solely on Jimin’s pelvis for a moment, hoisted off the bed, and he's shuddering and twitching. Jimin flops back down on the bed and Yoongi bounces a little in his lap, gasping as Jimin's cock brushes against his prostate with the movement.

"Please, stop," Yoongi pleads, tears running down his pink cheeks, and he wraps his fingers around Hoseok's wrist, trying to pull his hand off his cock. Hoseok leans in and licks up Yoongi's jaw, leaving a cool trail in his wake as a tear dips into Yoongi's mouth. Hoseok exhales around a loose laugh.

"That's more like it," he murmurs into the skin behind Yoongi's ear. He shoots Jimin a look out of the corner of his eye. "You happy, babe?"

Jimin nods, still looking a little out of it, and Hoseok uses the grip he's got on Yoongi's neck to pull him up and off Jimin's cock and then shove him callously over to Jimin's side. Yoongi lays where he falls, splayed out and limp and hurting and he watches listlessly as Hoseok leans in and kisses Jimin within an inch of his life.

Hoseok's still dressed, sleeves rolled up and blazer hung up on one of the hotel's coat hangers but otherwise completely clothed. He's even got his shoes on.

"Suga," Jimin whispers, and Yoongi slides his gaze to meet Jimin's. He's smiling peacefully, one hand wound in Hoseok's hair as Hoseok mouths at his neck. "You want to see him?"

Yoongi swallows, knows that Hoseok undressing means at least one more orgasm, probably two, maybe more, and he's already exhausted. Nonetheless, there's a small part of him that reminds him of his first thought about Hoseok, that the guy has a body made for fucking, and fucking well.

Yoongi breathes for another moment. He nods. 

 


	2. minkai + baekdae / grinding, spanking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> literally JUST wrote this. haven't cleaned it up yet. i'll look at it again in the morning but for NOW!! enjoy.
> 
> idea from [cooscoos](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cooscoos). love youuuu.

 

"H-hyung,” Jongin’s voice is high and thin, his fingers tight on Jongdae’s shoulders. 

“What is it?” Baekhyun asks, and Jongin just shivers, the end of it coming out as a whine. Jongdae’s mouth falls open, his cheek brushing Jongin’s as he drops his face forward. He’s panting into Jongin’s neck, and he groans, open mouthed and wanton, when Jongin grinds down on him again.

“What do you want, Jongin?” Minseok’s voice is low, deep in his chest. Jongdae sneaks a glance at them through heavy eyelids, finds them both sitting lazily, legs spread wide. Both he and Baekhyun are jerking themselves off, Minseok’s strokes slower compared to Baekhyun’s, who looks like he’s going to be coming more than once if he keeps it up.

Jongin tries to speak, but when he rolls his hips down, he just ends up making another high little whiny noise. 

“Jongin-ah,” Baekhyun snaps, and Jongdae gasps. Baekhyun doesn’t look happy, looks like he’s one wrong answer away from putting Jongin over his knee. Jongdae turns his head to bite at Jongin’s shoulder when he rocks down into him again.

“Yes, yes, sorry, yes,” Jongin babbles, rocking down faster in Jongdae’s lap. He’s holding on so tight to him, Jongdae is sure he’ll have cute little bruises on his shoulders tomorrow. “Yes, sir, what? What did you say?”

Minseok laughs, an incredulous little huff of air that Baekhyun echoes. He can’t see them, but he’s sure they’re looking at each other, sharing a glance that says they’re disappointed but not surprised. 

“Your hyung asked what you wanted, cunt,” Baekhyun has a snarl in his voice. It makes Jongdae shake. Jongin gasps, hips jolting forward arrhythmically. 

“I, I,” Jongin is trying. Jongdae squeezes his hands together where they’re tied behind his back, the ropes digging into his skin as he flexes. He hopes Jongin can manage this, but it’s not looking good. “I…”

“What, bitch?” Minseok snaps, all sharp edges. “Quickly, we don’t have much patience with whores like you.”

They know what they’re doing, is what the little bit of rational thought at the back of Jongdae’s mind says. They know that kind of talk riles Jongin up, drives him crazy. They know he doesn’t stand a chance.

Jongin shudders in his lap, stilling briefly. Jongdae feels a flash of worry that Jongin came, he got off so soon, without their permission, no less. But when Minseok hums, prompting him to respond, he starts moving again, trying so hard to be good. Jongdae slides his mouth off Jongin’s shoulder and pants into his neck again, kisses the damp skin there to encourage him to speak, and speak quickly.

Baekhyun tuts. “Should’ve known,” he sighs, and Jongdae looks over Jongin’s shoulder at him. He’s shaking his head, hand slowed down to a pace closer to Minseok’s. They’re both more focused on him and Jongin, though, which makes a pleased little shiver run through him.

“What, that a dumb slut like him’d just be fucking useless?” Minseok asks, and they both grin at each other. Jongin writhes in his lap.

“I’m sorry, ‘m sorry,” he whimpers, one of his hands slipping to hold onto the back of the couch, until he misses the contact a few seconds later, and grabs a fistful of Jongdae’s hair instead. 

“Doesn’t matter if you’re sorry, does it, hyung?” Baekhyun asks, tilting his head. “You’re in trouble either way.”

Jongin drops his head forward, shivering as he meets Jongdae’s eyes. He blinks up at him, takes in his swollen lips and teary eyes, watches as he nods once, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Yes, sir,” he says, still staring into Jongdae’s eyes and petting at his head where he’d pulled his hair. He rises up on his knees, thighs shaking, and swings himself off Jongdae, who takes a lot of deep breaths of clear, fresh air, that doesn’t smell like sex and sweat and desperation. Jongin goes to stand up beside the couch, but Minseok lifts his hand, the one not still stroking his cock, and waves a finger at him.

“No, not you,” he says, and the room stills, waits as he turns his gaze, slow and heavy, onto Jongdae. “You.”

Jongin drops to his knees.

“No, no, please, master, I’m sorry,” he pleads with him, walking on his knees towards his dom. “Please don’t do this, not now, I’ll take it, I’ll take it and be so much better next time, I’m sorry!”

His babbling fades away into the background of Jongdae’s focus. He can’t seem to see anything but Baekhyun for a moment, who is staring back at him, steady and sure. He’s making sure Jongdae is up to this, ready to step in and put a stop to it right away if he’s not.

Jongdae wriggles, trying to use his mostly asleep arms to push himself up so he can move properly.

“Coming,” he says, voice a little small. He manages to push himself upright, and then up to standing amid Jongin’s continued groveling. 

When he stands, he finds Jongin in a full bow, palms pressed to the floor and forehead pressed to the backs of his hands, with Minseok, sitting in front of him, knee rocking back and forth gently as he watches Jongin’s display with a cocked eyebrow. Baekhyun, to his left a little bit behind him, reaches out, touches his fingers to Jongdae’s bindings, feels the skin around them. They’re tight, the way he enjoys, and he looks over his shoulder to give Baekhyun a little smile. He’s fine.

“You won’t sway me,” Minseok says, conversational, and Jongdae realizes Jongin is crying, sobbing into his hands on the floor. Minseok looks up, meets Jongdae’s eyes, a slow smirk slipping over his lips. He jerks his chin at him, and Jongdae is moving before Minseok even says, “Come here.”

Baekhyun doesn’t touch Jongin until Minseok kicks his foot out, like he’s making to kick Jongin in the side to get him away, the way one would if they were dealing with vermin. Jongin shrinks into himself so small, but moves away, curls up between Baekhyun’s legs and cries into Baekhyun’s thigh.

“Down,” Minseok says, and Jongdae kneels right where he stands, between Minseok’s legs, close to the loveseat. Minseok looks at him for a moment, and then he lifts a hand, flicks his index finger in a circular motion. “Turn around.”

Jongdae does, shuffling on his knees until he’s facing the couch he and Jongin had just been on.

A hand lays over the back of his neck, pressing down, down, until his forehead is pressing into the rug. 

“Stay like that,” Minseok instructs, and then his warmth and the weight of his presence is gone from right above Jongdae.

He’s back, though, only a few seconds later, his hand landing hard and precise on his ass. It hurts, it  _ hurts _ , but Jongdae just bites his lips together, squeezes his eyes shut.

“That’s one,” Minseok says. Jongdae nods, and Jongin makes a watery, remorseful sound from between Baekhyun’s legs. Jongdae looks up to watch Jongin when Minseok smacks him again and again, and he sees how Jongin flinches violently at every hit. 

“See?” Minseok barks, loud in the otherwise quiet of the room. There is no more desperate whimpering, no more sounds of hands wet with lube, nothing but the sound of Minseok’s hand landing firm on Jongdae’s ass, and Jongdae’s breathing, his little bitten off noises.

“This is what happens when you don’t pay attention,” he continues. Jongdae isn’t looking at him anymore, but he can imagine Jongin hiding himself further in the cradle of Baekhyun’s embrace. “This is what happens when you’re a dumb fucking slut.”

He punctuates the last three words with one hit each, in quick succession, and the last one has Jongdae crying out. He knows that his punishment is over now, though.

“Please,” Jongin sniffles. Jongdae rises, slowly and with Minseok’s gentle help, to his knees again. He can’t sit back on his heels, his ass burns too much, but the stretch feels good in his thighs and lower back, his tense shoulders. Jongin pouts, lips wet with tears, and says, “Please, master. I understand.”

Minseok hums, and he must nod, or wave Jongin over, or something, because one second, Jongin is curled up, tiny and cowed, and the next he’s up and barreling towards Minseok, coming to kneel in his lap. 

Baekhyun smiles at Jongdae, bright and beautiful and perfect. Jongdae moves without instruction, knee walks over to kneel between Baekhyun’s legs. 

“You did so good, sweetheart,” he coos, kissing Jongdae, left hand cupping his cheek. “So good for me, baby, always so perfect.”

Jongdae preens, wiggling his shoulders a little and pressing into Baekhyun’s mouth when he moves to pull away.

“Can I get a reward?” he asks when Baekhyun finally does lean away. He smiles down at him, thumb stroking gently over his cheek. His eyes are dark, and it sends a jolt of want through him when Baekhyun tips his chin up and quirks an eyebrow.

“I think you’ve earned one, yes,” he says, nodding as he leans back. His hand slips away from Jongdae’s cheek, and he tips forward, chasing the contact. He blinks though, focusing, and swallows when he’s met with the sight of Baekhyun’s cock, hard and wet at the head.

“Go on, then,” he says, nodding at him. “Get me off.”

 

 


	3. sesu + sesukai / pole dancers/strippers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> once again, i JUST finished this like 30 seconds ago, so. ill edit later. its late.
> 
> im proud of this one!! the song mentioned is 'needed me' by rihanna. its an epic song, and a good accompaniment to this fic.
> 
> as always, thank you!!!!

Junmyeon doesn’t come to this place with any… intentions. 

He comes to watch, to be in a dark place with good tequila and comfy seats, to be anonymous in the company of other people who are here to be anonymous.

He comes to see the talent, see the way the people on stage live their moments there completely unabashed, without inhibitions or concerns, just connecting with the music and existing to perform.

“A paloma, please,” he says, leaning his right arm on the bar, trading the drink for the bills in his hand. He takes a sip, and as always, it’s delicious. The bite of the tequila is shrouded in the grapefruit juice, the flavours mixing well and slipping into him easily. He finishes the first drink at the bar, before ordering another one to take to his booth.

He comes here almost every night from Wednesday through to Saturday, as often as he can. With the merger at work coming to a head, things are busy, and he hadn’t managed to get out of the office in enough time at all last week, even on Saturday night. Being here again feels like a breath pulled deep into his lungs, has him relaxing immediately, sinking into the booth he likes best, a little off centre but with the best view of the stage in his opinion. He puts his drink down on the table, mindful to place it on a coaster, and throws his left arm up over the top of the backrest. 

Everything is dark here, purples and pinks and some blues the only colours to be seen, and even then, they’re only really in the stage lights. The patrons of the establishment are muted, the music covering the sound of individual conversations so they all meld together into one low hum. Some of them are with friends, some alone, but when the lights dim, the music in the room fading, everyone falls silent.

A song begins, slow and thick, and the sound of heels on the plexiglass stage makes everyone’s heart skitter, just a bit, Junmyeon is sure. The lights come back up, focused on the dancer, and the night begins.

All of the dancers here are incredible. That’s why he comes here, Junmyeon thinks, as he finishes his drink. There is a waiter at his table in moments, sweeping the empty glass away and bringing him another when Junmyeon asks. Everyone who works here is impeccable, the bartenders well trained, the waiters attentive, the dancers perfection in human form.

One of Junmyeon’s favourites is up next, a gorgeous boy who, when on stage, is called Kai. Junmyeon knows his routines well, is familiar with them, so his interest is piqued when Kai stumbles onstage partway through the opening bars of his song of choice, looking like he just ran in off the street. He’s in skinny jeans that are ripped at the knee, a long sleeved mesh shirt under a solid black t-shirt, oxfords a little scuffed. Junmyeon can’t help but smile as he fumbles his way down the short catwalk to the centre stage, wide-eyed and disheveled; he’s cute.

Some of the newcomers are confused, Junmyeon is sure. A ripple of low noise passed through the crowd gathered here at the sight of who their next dancer is to be, but Junmyeon know better. He sips his drink, knowing that nothing Kai does is offhand, that everything he does is calculated, thought out, purposeful.

He doesn’t disappoint. 

He plays the coquettish angle, acting like he really did just stumble in by chance, pulling at his sleeves, and keeping his gaze lowered. He walk around the pole in the middle of the circular stage, letting the swing of his hips come back to him as he pretends to adjust to the eyes on him. He smiles shyly and proudly when he does something showy and attractive and receives applause for it, picks up the bills tossed at his feet with a grateful bow of his head. He teases with the idea of taking his shirt off, toys with the hem of it as the audience, in the palm of his hand now, eggs him on. When he does slip it over his head, after dropping to his knees, of course, he’s left in only the mesh shirt underneath, black shirt in his hands as he takes a moment to breathe, before flicking his eyes up, and smirking. He gets back on his feet, thumb hooked into the waistband of his jeans as he taunts them by pulling it down, showing an inch more skin and getting more wild praise. Junmyeon finds it amusing.

His song finishes soon after, gathering his shirt and bowing deeply before rushing offstage, shirt clutched to his chest like he’s shy again. 

Junmyeon gets up to get another drink, a raspberry mint mojito this time, and to stretch his legs. He speaks to the bartender for a moment, asks who the next lineup is going to be, and she says she’s not sure, but their best dancer is sure to go on close to the end. That’s what Junmyeon was looking for; he thanks her, tips generously, and heads back to his booth.

The dancer who is up now is new, a cute little thing that makes it his goal every night to show just how un-cute he can get. Junmyeon isn’t really paying attention, though, because Kai has come out from backstage to make the rounds, offering lapdances and private shows in the backrooms, his smile coaxing and conniving. He takes a few men through the door that leads to the private rooms, and then takes them back to their seats. He gives a couple of men and women lap dances where they sit, teasing and taunting, and Junmyeon only half watches the dancers on stage, keeps track of Kai. 

When he approaches Junmyeon, Kai’s smile turns sweeter than before.

“Hey there, boss man,” he says, slipping into the booth beside him. “How was work?”

“Long,” is Junmyeon’s reply. Kai hums.

“Looking for something to help loosen up?” his fingers are walking up Junmyeon’s chest, over his white dress shirt. He’d unbuttoned the blazer a while ago, the top button of the shirt undone. This is his casual look, and Kai seems to appreciate it.

“Mmm,” he hums, tilting his head to look at Kai, who holds steady eye contact with him, solid and sure where he sits. The backs of Junmyeon’s fingers sweep over Kai’s cheek. “Maybe.” 

Kai’s mouth lifts into a pleased little half smirk. 

“Well,” he says, leaning up and away. His hair is falling into his face a little, and he sweeps it back with his hand as he gets up to keep working. “If you make up your mind, come to me. I know I can help you relax.”

Junmyeon smiles as well, nodding at him as he leaves to finish his rounds. Junmyeon picks up his drink, takes a sip, and turns his attention back to the stage. 

The night is nearing it’s end, Junmyeon can tell. The songs are a little longer, the dances more suggestive. Junmyeon feels a little flutter in the pitt of his stomach; he’s excited.

He knows right away when his favourite dancer is next. Instead of dimming, the lights swivel around the room for a moment before coming to focus on the pole in the main stage. Junmyeon sits up, leans forward, takes a sip.

A Rihanna song fades in through the speakers, and the lights flick from pinks and purples to red at the first beat, the first line pulling the dancer out from the shadows.

He’s tall, long and lean and broad, wide shoulders that taper down into a cute little waist, legs that last forever. He’s beautiful, otherworldly as he stalks around the pole once. His hands are big, and they curl around the metal confidently as he pushes off from the floor, swinging up into the air and twisting around the pole. His body is one long, pretty line, curving and arcing as he pulls himself up, bent at the waist, legs spread to accommodate the pole. He’s a work of art as he holds himself in the air, steady hands and strong arms the only thing between himself and the floor. He climbs, the pole shaking slightly as he moves, curls his legs around the pole and looks into the audience before slowly, so slowly, leaning forward, securing a hold on the pole with his hands, and then lowering himself, even slower, to the floor in a perfect split. 

The crowd is enthralled.

Junmyeon watches, intent, focus tunneled to this one performance, this one boy, as he slinks through his routine like an oil slick, dark and unhurried and effervescent. He’s dressed in a white shirt and leather pants, the flimsy, thin material of the shirt dropping and riding up as he dances, showing off the tight, tiny circumference of his waist, the sculpted planes of his stomach. Everything about his routine screams strength and power, control and perfect discipline, but then they catch a peek of his nipples, or the rising and falling of his stomach, and everyone is reminded of how he’s human, very human and very real and very fuckable. 

Junmyeon knows everyone is thinking about how their hands would look on that waist, fitted against those hips. Junmyeon himself has thought about it, about how it feels to hold on to him, press divots into perfect skin, redirect all that power and control and take it for himself, have that plush little mouth panting out pleas. 

No one wants the song to end, but it does anyway. The singing winds down, and the music follows, the dancer slowing himself to the game of seduction, dropping himself to his knees gently and keeping the closing part of his dance low, movements languid and insinuating. His eyes are closed, bottom lip bitten between his teeth as the song ends, the lights fading to black so he can get up and head offstage without being seen. It all adds to the illusion, Junmyeon muses, that he’s there just to be sensual, just to entice. Junmyeon can’t count himself among those who aren’t under his spell, though, so maybe he shouldn’t be talking.

There is a pause between the previous dancer and the next, so a waiter can collect the bills that had been thrown at him as he danced. He never picks them up himself, another way to keep himself mysterious and alluring. 

Everyone is in awe, talking quietly or just sitting in silence, thinking. Imagining.

The next dancer comes on, the more upbeat song a little jarring, but the audience sink back into the swing of things easily, eager to take anything again.

The dancer comes out from the staff door halfway through this dancer’s performance. Junmyeon’s focus narrows back on him, watching attentively as he drinks a glass of water from the bar, saying something to the bartender, before heading into the crowd. 

Every person in the room wants him. Junmyeon can see him stop at every table, watches as he get swept into conversation, offers of all sorts of things coming his way. He entertains them, sitting on laps and cocking his hips, slipping his hand under his shirt to tug it up as he scratches at an itch on his ribs. Everyone is so focused on him, but no one seems to be able to offer him what he wants. 

As he comes closer and closer to where Junmyeon is sitting, Junmyeon feels his heart rate kick up. He’s spoken to the boy before, of course he has, but every time is as thrilling as the first. He straightens in his seat when the dancer is one table away, straightens out his blazer and smooths his shirt flat.

He’s fussing with how the shirt creases where it’s tucked into his slacks, eyes down, when he stops at his table.

“Hello,” he says, and Junmyeon’s head snaps up.

“Oh,” he breathes, looking up at the dancer. He’s even prettier up close, as always, prettier still when he smiles. “Hello.”

“Kai told me you were looking for something,” the dancer slides into the booth, presses himself right up against Junmyeon’s side. “Anything I can help with?”

Junmyeon lets out a long breath. “Shouldn’t you find some dances to do?” he asks. The dancer smells like sweat and perfume and the metal of the pole. It’s electrifying. “Make some more money?”

The dancer cocks his head, one perfect eyebrow lifting.

“You really want me to go back out there?” he asks, sounding as incredulous as he looks. “You wanna wait even longer before heading back? I need a shower, and I’ve wanted to be in our bed for, like, hours.” He pouts, and Junmyeon can’t help it when he reaches out, presses his thumb to the dancer’s lower lip. “Can’t we go home?”

“Sehun,” Junmyeon breathes, like it’s the first time he’s seen him in eons. Sehun’s eyes sparkle in delight, and he tips his head forward to suck Junmyeon’s thumb into his mouth, sucking once. “Fuck, baby.”

Sehun grins, letting Junmyeon’s thumb slide out of his mouth. “I know,” he agrees, nodding. “Thought you’d like if I did this one. I know it’s your favourite.”

Junmyeon’s hands come to rest on Sehun’s hips when Sehun settles himself on his lap, thumbs tracing the lines of his hipbones, thumbs, one wet and one dry, slipping under Sehun’s shirt. 

“It is,” he admits, smiling up at his boyfriend. “But I love everything you do.”

Sehun rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “Yeah, yeah,” he nods, before sliding off Junmyeon’s lap to sit beside him again. “So. Home?”

“Home,” Junmyeon agrees, nodding. He downs the rest of his drink, and smiles. “You’re driving.”

“Mm,” Sehun hums. “That’s cool.”

He starts to slip away, much to Junmyeon’s chagrin, but as soon as Junmyeon begins to miss the contact, Sehun is back, finger tapping against Junmyeon’s mouth.

“Jongin said something about maybe wanting his help,” he says, a little slow and a little shy, as he always is when asking for this. “Would you be cool with bringing him with us?”

Junmyeon’s mouth splits into a grin.

“Would I ever argue that?” he asks, and Sehun grins back, looking pleased. 

“No, you wouldn’t,” he says, and it makes Junmyeon’s smile soften. They both know Junmyeon can deny him very little, and they’re having fun, bringing Sehun’s best friend into their bed from time to time. Sehun leans in to Junmyeon’s neck, bites him once, before pulling back. “I’ll go grab my stuff, and find Jongin, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Junmyeon nods, and watches Sehun slip back into his persona, walking slowly through the crowd back to the staff door. A few people reach out to touch him, try to pull him back to their conversation, but Sehun with a mission is not one easily swayed, and he stays on course with only very minor distractions. 

Junmyeon traces a finger up the side of his glass, wet with condensation still, and smiles to himself.

He might not come to this place with any Intentions, but as he leaves tonight, the two prettiest boys in the city on his arm, he thinks he might be leaving with some.


	4. krisbaek / transbaek, camboys + frottage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> as always, just wrote this. ill be back tmrw morning to look it over. enjoy!!

It's not that rare for Baekhyun to have guests. He's a man of many friends, who likes to hang out with and see the people he likes to be around often enough that he doesn't spend too long missing them. He likes to entertain, and he's a very good host, if he does say so himself.

"Fuck, Baek," Yifan grits out, spoken low against Baekhyun's neck. Baekhyun tips his head to the side and smiles at the camera. Yifan's hands slide from his waist up his sides, huge palms and long fingers covering Baekhyun's ribs completely. He sighs under the reverent touch.

"I think he's having fun," he says, smile turning cheeky. He leans back, arms still around Yifan's neck, and rubs himself on Yifan's thigh again, just brushing his cock through his jeans. Yifan wrinkles his nose, trying to buck up into the friction but he stops himself at Baekhyun's look. "Are you having fun, Kris?"

The way he says the name is teasing, with an edge of something a little mean in it, and Yifan squeezes his eyes shut, makes a low noise and nods enthusiastically.

Baekhyun is nothing if not a good host.

"Good," Baekhyun purrs, leaning back in so their chests are pressed together again. He rolls his hips forward, angling himself down so he's putting more pressure on his clit, and the motion in turn makes him rock against Yifan's cock, big and hard and pretty in his jeans. He likes to tease Yifan about the fact that he goes by another name when he's live, likes to call him Kris in public, usually while moaning or something equally as damning.

He likes it most when he can say it right into Yifan's ear, though, likes when he can watch how Yifan shivers and rocks up into the feeling of Baekhyun's warm, wet, cunt pressed against his cock through his jeans. It's a little rough on Baekhyun's softest parts, but he doesn't mind too much, likes the cold bite of the zipper against his skin, likes to be able to feel everything he can while Yifan is still squirming in his clothes.

"I think," Baekhyun tilts his hips back, dragging his cunt through the damp patch he's left behind on Yifan's leg. "That we're just about ready to have even more fun."

He rubs his clit back and forth for a moment, the feeling of the damp fabric even better, using Yifan's thigh, before he swings himself up and off Yifan's lap.

"Baek?" Yifan's voice is a little wrecked already, and it makes smug smile curl over Baekhyun's lips.

"Don't worry, sweet thing," he says, patting Yifan's cheek. "I just have to go private, then we can start this for real."

Yifan's breath is shaky, but he nods once. Baekhyun pouts at him, mocking, and then turns to the camera, leaning down to fiddle with the website so he can set the stream to paid only. He speaks right to the viewers when he says, "Honestly, it's like he's never done this before."

Yifan makes a wounded little noise behind him, and Baekhyun bites his lip around a smile.

"Now, in about a minute we're switching to pay by the minute," he explains, and smiles as he reads all the comments that talk about how they know, get one with it. "I know most of you know, but we've got some newcomers! We don't want them to miss out, do we?"

Yifan squirms, the chair shifting under his weight. Baekhyun is so excited for this stream.

"If you don't want to miss me wrecking that big little boy over there," he says, moving out of the camera's field of view so the viewers can see how Yifan stares at him, wide eyed and clutching his knees desperately. "Then you'd better stick around."

Yifan nods, and Baekhyun can see it in the little window that shows their video in the corner of the screen. He smiles again.

"Okay, we're going private in three, two, one," Baekhyun counts down slowly, letting as many people as possible jump in at the last second, and then he clicks the button that shifts them to the pay-by-the-minute setting. He looks up, right into the camera, and grins. "Hey."

Yifan huffs a little laugh from behind him; as much as he pretends to be all gruff and quiet, he's terribly endeared by Baekhyun, which of course he uses to his advantage as much as he can.

"Now," Baekhyun straightens, turning to face Yifan, who tenses up where he sits.

Yifan swallows thickly, as Baekhyun approaches him, and he wriggles a bit he repositions himself in Yifan's lap and grinds down once. Yifan moans like the sound is punched out of him, and Baekhyun grins.

"Let's get started, huh?"

 

 


End file.
